Holdin' On
by Gayeld
Summary: Harry/Ron. Too short to bother with a summary.


Holdin' On

By Gayle

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Too short for a summary

**Pairing:** Harry/Ron

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, but then what is?

**Author's note:** This was written and posted elsewhere long ago (after OOTP was published, but well before HBP.) It should probably never see the light of day again, but I still like it. So, what the hell.

- - -

Ron Weasley dug through the school trunk in front of him, chortling occasionally as he sorted through it: A box of chocolate frog cards; well loved copies of _Quidditch Through The Ages _and _Flying With The Cannons_; the pocket Sneakoscope he'd gotten Harry for his thirteenth birthday. How Harry managed to fit it all into his trunk _without _magic was still a mystery to him. But then, he guessed, living with those Muggles as he did, Harry had probably learned to make the best of whatever space he was allowed.

Ron frowned at this thought, as he always did thinking of Harry trapped in that house with those people. Forced to live in that tiny space under the stairs for ten years, given nothing but his fat cousin's worn-out hand-me-downs and broken toys. It was criminal, it was. Ron still flushed with anger over how Harry'd been mistreated by his _family _, even after all these years, even though he hadn't known Harry when most of it had happened.

But that was over now, Harry had him, and Hermione, and the whole Weasley family. He didn't have to depend on people who didn't care about him and who didn't love him. Just a few weeks in the summer, that was all. Just to keep Harry safe. And the rest of the time he was theirs to take care of, to love.

Which was why Ron was up here, digging through Harry's belongings in secret, trying to find the album Hagrid had made him. The one full of the only pictures Harry had of his mum and dad, of Sirius. He dug a little deeper in the trunk, his hand closing around the silky, silvery threads of the invisibility cloak, smiling as he pulled it up, thinking of the many adventures they'd had beneath it, and made to toss it on Harry's bed. But something small and round tumbled out of it's many folds, making a sharp, crystal ping as it came in contact with the Sneakoscope.

Curious, Ron scooped it into his hand, holding the small crystal vial up to the light. It was filled with a deep umber liquid that seemed to catch the light and reflect it back at him. A forgotten Potion's ingredient? He moved to toss it back into the trunk . . .

_Except . . . _

_Except _he'd taken all the same Potion classes with Harry, hadn't he? Ron rolled it across his palm before holding it up to the light again. _Except _this didn't look like any Potion ingredient he remembered. He stared at it, mesmerized by the play of light across the crystal surface.

So, what? So, it wasn't a Potion's ingredient. It was just something Harry'd picked up in Diagon Alley. But when, since the summer before third year, had Harry been to Diagon Alley without him? Hogsmeade, maybe, last year when he'd gone with Cho Chang. But how many times had Ron been in Harry's trunk since then? And how many of those times had been to use the Invisibility Cloak that this had been so carefully wrapped in.

Out of nowhere, a memory flashed through his mind: Snape, striding angrily into their N.E.W.T. level Potion class and staring down his long hooked nose at them, his malignant gaze resting a moment longer on Harry than the rest. A late night break-in to his private stores. A thief skilled enough to tear down several advanced wards. A missing vial of poison. One of the deadliest known to wizardkind. Just a few drops meant instant death. No cure. No hope. Just death.

He rolled it across his palm again, remembering the flicker he'd seen in Harry's eyes that day. Something small and hopeless, like an injured child. Gone before Ron had had the chance to acknowledge it, to identify it.

"No." He dropped the vial, stung, and watched as it rolled across the dormitory floor and under his bed. Not Harry. He wouldn't. Not Harry. Not _his _Harry.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, feeling cold and sick, staring at the dusty floor under his bed. Long enough for the bright sunlight that had filled the dormitory to fade into long shadows, long enough for the room to grow as cold as he felt, long enough for Harry to come tumbling in, hair windblown and cheeks flushed from flying around the Quidditch pitch.

"Ron?" Harry leaned his Firebolt against the end of his bed, frowning slightly at his scattered possessions. "Ron, what's going on?"

"Why?" Ron asked, his voice accusatory, anger bubbling out of every pore. "You bloody _bastard_! WHY?"

"I- Ron, what?" Harry looked shocked, unsure what he'd walked into. "What are you on about?"

Ron sprang to his feet, shoving past Harry, and fell to the floor beside his bed, his hand closing unerringly around the small vial. Standing again, he held it in Harry's face. "WHY?"

"Where did you get that?" Harry asked, his face paling as he looked from the vial to Ron's face and back again.

"Your trunk, _mate_. Now answer the question."

"What were you doing my trunk?" Harry's voice was faint, his gaze still focused on the vial.

"Not looking for this!" Ron snapped, fisting his other hand around the front of Harry's robes when the other boy tried to back away from him. "What is this, Harry?"

"It's nothing." Harry's focus shifted to the boy in front of him and Ron could see the lie in his eyes. "Give it here."

"Nothing?" Ron held the vial up, his long arms keeping it from Harry's grasp. "Nothing, huh? Then it doesn't matter if I do this?" He popped the lid off the vial and brought it to his lips.

_**"NO!"** _Harry slapped it out of his hand, grabbing his shoulders anxiously. "Did you swallow any of it?"

"What does it matter? It's _nothing_, right?" Ron challenged.

"Damn it, Ron, answer me!" Harry, clearly panicked, tightened his grip on Ron.

"You first! You tell me why you had that. You _tell _me!" he demanded through clenched teeth, fighting against the tightness in his throat. "You. Tell. Me. Why."

"I wanted it to be my choice," Harry said, quietly.

"Your . . ." Ron stumbled away from him, the lump in his throat growing as something burned at the back of his eyes. "You bastard. You bloody selfish _BASTARD_"

"You don't understand-"

"You're bloody right, I don't! How could you?" Ron was shaking with fear and anger. "How could you do that to everyone? HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME!"

"BECAUSE I HAVE TO! BECAUSE IT'S JUST A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE VOLDEMORT KILLS ME AND FOR ONCE I WANTED KNOW I HAD A _CHOICE_ THAT I COULD DO IT MYSELF BEFORE HE KILLS ANYONE ELSE I LOVE!"

"DON'T SAY THAT!"

"Why not, it's true!" Harry replied viciously.

"No, it's not! You don't know that. You don't." Ron could feel his breath coming faster, panicked gasps that matched the sick twisting of his stomach.

"Yes, I do! I've heard the prophecy."

"What?" Ron looked at Harry's pale, determined face. "No one heard it, it's gone. It was destroyed. You couldn't-"

"Dumbledore showed it to me. After . . ." his voice trailed away, his eyes getting that same faraway look they always did when Sirius' death was mentioned. "He was there when it was made. He saw the whole thing and showed it to me. I just- I didn't tell you. I didn't tell anyone. I didn't want your pity. I didn't want to look at you and Hermione and know you were both just waiting for me to die."

Ron's stomach lurched, contracting violently, and he barely made into the bathroom before losing what felt like every meal he'd eaten in his life. He was barely aware of the supportive hands holding him or the warm washing cloth pressed to his forehead when the vicious spasms gave way to dry heaving and then painful sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." A voice kept repeating in his ear, but it didn't seem to make any sense. Nothing made sense, but the soul deep knowledge that he couldn't lose Harry, he just _couldn't _.

There was a gentle pressure at his elbow and the next thing he was aware of was someone hauling him to his feet and directing him to the sink. A glass of water was pressed into his hands and another warm cloth wiped across his face, the back of his neck.

"Rinse your mouth." The glass was pushed up in front of him and he followed the directions in a detached manner, his mind and his body seeming to be two separate entities. "Come on. Come have a lie down and -"

"No!" The world seemed to come rushing back in around him and Ron grabbed Harry, clinging to him. "He can't have you." He tightened his hold. "He can't."

"Ron, please-"

"No!" Ron whispered fiercely, feeling tears threatening again, and buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck. "I _won't _let him have you, Harry."

Before Harry could protest, before either of them could think what they were doing, Ron had pressed his lips against Harry's in a desperate kiss. Ron could feel the other boy stiffen against him at first, but slowly, gradually, Harry began to relax against him, leaning into the kiss, his lips parting slightly beneath Ron's, a soft sigh escaping.

Stunned by his own actions, Ron pulled slowly away from Harry, afraid to look in his friend's face and see anger and loathing. He almost flinched when he felt Harry's finger touch his face, drawing softly beneath his eye.

"Wet."

"What?" Ron finally looked at Harry and found him rubbing his fingers together with a slight frown.

"Wet." Harry offered his fingers to Ron as evidence. "What do you think it is about me that makes everyone who kisses me cry? Is it really that bad?"

Just like that Ron felt his tension fade, laughing he pulled Harry next to him and whispered "Don't know, guess I'll have to try it again" and he did. Ron brushed his lips lightly across Harry's, giving the other boy a chance to object, before deepening the kiss. He was gratified to feel Harry relax into him even sooner this time, Harry's hands coming to a rest on his waist. Not really holding on to him, but not pushing him away either.

Without thinking about it, Ron brought one of his hands up, caressing Harry's cheek and cupping the side of his face gently. This felt so nice, so right that Ron nearly forgot what had brought them here, nearly forgot there was a world outside this messy boys' bathroom. There was just the sweetness of this kiss and Harry's lips, soft against his own, Harry's breath, warm against his cheek. There was just Harry and at that moment it was the most wonderful thing Ron could imagine.

Long moments passed before they finally broke apart and Harry rested his forehead against Ron's chest. "I'm so tired."

"Then rest." Ron tightened his hold on Harry, determined to keep them both in this safe place as long as he could.

"I can't. Even when I can sleep, I can't get away from it. He won't let me."

"Volde-"Ron cleared his throat, he had to learn to get past that. "You-Know-Who?" Harry nodded against his chest. "I meant what I said, Harry. I don't care what some moldy old prophecy says. He can't have you. I won't let him." Ron snorted softly and laid his cheek on the top of Harry's head. "It was probably made by some right old fraud like Trelawney anyway."

Harry made a mirthless sound, half sob, half choked laughter. "You could say it was something like that."

"Tell me." Ron kissed Harry's temple, then worked his way slowly downward until he could claim the other boy's lips again. Minutes later, slightly breathless and flushed, Ron looked at Harry and asked again. "Tell me what it said. Please."

"There was a lot of rubbish at the beginning and end, but the important part was -" Harry sighed and sank down to sit on the floor. _"And either must die at the hands of the other for neither can live while the other survives."_

"What?" Ron gaped at Harry. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means either I kill Voldemort or he kills me." Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. "I can't kill him, Ron. He's too powerful. The last time-" He glanced over at Ron, guiltily, before focusing on the floor in front of him. "That night, at the Ministry of Magic, I didn't even try. I didn't care if he killed me or not."

_"Harry!"_

Harry ploughed on, ignoring Ron's sharply drawn breath and horrified exclamation. After all, it wasn't going to get any better, was it? "When he possessed me, it hurt so much, worse than the Cruciatus Curse, and I just wanted it to end. I wanted Dumbledore to kill me. I wanted to be with Sirius again."

"Harry, no." Ron shook his head in horror and disbelief. "No. You can't- What's the rest of it!" he demanded suddenly.

"You don't- What?" Harry looked at him askew. "The rest of what?"

"The prophecy, you prat." Ron cuffed him lightly on the side of the head. "You said that there was more."

"Ron, it doesn't-"

"Tell me."

Harry sighed and looked around. "You do realize we're sitting on the floor in the boys' loo, right?"

"Don't change the subject."

Harry nodded and, closing his eyes again, began to recite. "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,"_ even without opening his eyes, Harry could feel Ron's gaze flicker up to the scar on his forehead_, "but he will have powers the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hands of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."_

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?"

Harry opened his eyes to find Ron looking at him expectantly. "What is?"

"You're just going to have to vanquish You-Know-Who, aren't you." Ron stood and offered his hand to Harry, like what he had proposed was no more extraordinary than a game of Quidditch.

"Ron, did you hear me? I can't kill-"

"Yes, you can!" Ron said fiercely. "If you're going to believe in that ruddy prophecy then you believe in the whole thing! You've got powers he _knows not _and you're going to win, Harry, because I've already told you I'm not letting him have you. All right?"

Harry nodded, suddenly quite sure it would be a _very bad idea _to disagree with Ron at this time.

"Right then." Ron opened the bathroom door and looked out. "Guess we should clean up this mess, eh?"

Harry followed Ron back into the dorm room, working quietly with him to clean up the bits and pieces of Harry's stuff that had gotten scattered about when Ron had been searching Harry's trunk. As Ron dumped the last items haphazardly on top and closed the trunk, Harry spotted a flash of light in the corner between their beds and bent to investigate.

The crystal vial. A few drops of dark umber still clung to the inside as Harry reached for it. His hand had barely touched the surface, though, when another hand closed over his.

"I'll take that." Ron slipped his fingers between Harry's, gently prying the vial loose before dropping a ragged old t-shirt on the floor and carefully cleaning up all the spilled droplets of poison.

"Ron, I wasn't going to-" Harry wasn't sure what he'd been about to say. He wasn't going to keep it? Use it? Whatever it was, he had a feeling it would have been too much and not nearly enough to satisfy Ron at the moment, so he simply let it slide away.

Ron disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, returning without the t-shirt or the vial and settled next to Harry on the edge of his bed. "Come on, let's catch a nap."

"A nap?" Harry glanced sideways at him. "What are we three?"

"Shut up, git." Ron elbowed him in the ribs before pushing him over on the bed. "You said it yourself, you're tired, and you look it." He started closing the curtains around Harry's bed, fussing with them until he was satisfied. "Now budge up." Ron poked and prodded Harry until they were both lying down, side by side at the head of the bed.

"Ron, what are you doing?"

"Taking a nap with you," Ron said, rolling onto his side and looking at Harry, blushing slightly as he putting an arm across Harry's waist and leaned in to kiss him. "Now, go to sleep, you great git."

Smiling slightly, Harry closed his eyes, rolled closer to Ron's warmth and did just that.

- - -

_Fin_


End file.
